


Dead Man Talking

by Xaviers_protege



Series: Mick Rory Appreciation [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 7 + 1, Angst, Character Introspection I guess, Fluff, Gen, Like 5 + 1, Much emotion, but not, some dialogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 17:28:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7183334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xaviers_protege/pseuds/Xaviers_protege
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chronos was defeated and Mick Rory was beaten, yet the crew of the Waverider weren't celebrating. One by one they observe, talk, feel. They speak, he listens and he learns. But there is little he can do.</p><p>There is little he wants to do.</p><p>Alternatively, seven times the crew talk to Mick and the one time he talks back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misplaced Empathy

Ray Palmer was not a man of conviction. He was easily swayed to see other perspectives and was constantly reconsidering his own opinions whenever new facts came to light. He liked to think of his opinions like hypotheses, always changing to fit the evidence.

His current hypothesis of Mick Rory was undergoing a re-evaluation. Ray remembered the criminal as surprisingly unpredictable. Every time he’d decided on what kind of a man Rory was, the arsonist would do something totally out of character – like save his life.

Looking at Rory now, at Chronos, all of that confusion, all of those conflicting emotions he’d left behind after not even sparing a thought to the man for two years, came flooding back in a single, painful moment. It was like being punched in the gut, almost.

Guilt seemed to be the most prevalent feeling. Ray was secure enough in himself to know that it was quite irrational, but seeing him in the cell destroyed his rationale. All he could think about was the six of them stood around that table, deciding another man’s fate, as if that wasn’t against everything Rip had preached.

Sitting here, next to the man they had condemned, he couldn’t help but wonder if Chronos was some sort of karma. Perhaps this was Fate telling them that only She decides the endings of others.

“They left me behind, too, y’know.” Ray could have hit himself. _Why did he say that?_ He waited for Rory’s reaction, but none came. Maybe that was worse. It certainly stung his pride a little. “Two years. It could have been worse, I guess. I mean, I had Kendra, and Sara for a while.” True to the nature of Ray Palmer, he began to lose himself in his memories and words. Looking down at his hands which lay placid in his lap, he missed his silent companion turn his head to face the genius. “It was difficult, at first anyway. We still had that place from the mission, so we weren’t too bad off – y’know, after we sold it.” Breaking off, Ray thought about what to say next.

“How’d you do it?” Startled by the gruff voice, Ray struggled for a reply.

“Do what?” By the time he’d asked for clarification, Rory had moved back into his previous position. Regarding the question, Ray carried on. “I spent the first few weeks trying to build something to communicate with the ship. I … guess I was trying to ignore that feeling of abandonment, maybe? When it failed I kind of broke a little. The only thing that kept me going was Kendra.”

“Why are you here, Haircut?” Ray narrowed his eyebrows; the question was resigned. Where was the aggression? Where was the anger that drove both Mick Rory and Chronos?

Taking a deep breath and hoping that he wasn’t about to do more damage, he answered. “I thought you’d understand. I’m not quite over being marooned in 1958. You know, I was the one who thought they’d come back for us? I built a life with Kendra. I accepted their absences, their deaths, even.” He sighed heavily, shaking his head as if he could shake off his emotions. “I just. I wasn’t ready to give up that life.”

Silence reigned for a few moments before Rory replied. However, he didn’t use words. His answer was a rough, nasty laugh that was slow and mocking. Ray felt himself go cold inside at the noise.

“You thought I’d understand? You’re right; we have so much in common. We were both abandoned by the people we trusted, alone and cold with no way of looking after ourselves. We both had to fight for our survival and live without the things that kept us sane, leaving us to go mad. Did you see the fire beneath your skin, too? Did you feel the desire to tear off your flesh so you could burn the world?” Rory smile his characteristic small grin, though it had a crueller glint. “Instead of thinking that I’d understand, ask yourself if you do first.”

Ray was shaken, having been thoroughly disturbed by Rory’s descriptions. How stupid had he been, thinking that he and Rory would find common ground? He’d been led by his hero complex into believing that their betrayals were the same, and that it was a way that he could get through to Rory – to Mick.

Ray stood on trembling legs to leave and he knew the arsonist’s words would be stuck in his head, haunting him even in his sleep.

“Hey, Palmer,” Ray froze, his mind running through the various things Rory could possibly say to him now, “you say Wings keeps you sane?” At his hesitant nod, Rory swallowed, as if preparing himself. “Relish every moment you have with her. It doesn’t matter if it’ll end or how it’ll end, just don’t spend your time with her as if you have forever together; forever could end tomorrow.”

Walking away, Ray thought that maybe, in a world with metahumans and time travel, perhaps some part of what he said _had_ gotten through to Mick.


	2. Unforgiven

Let it never be said that Kendra Saunders was not a passionate woman. When on a mission, her purpose becomes her life. When she loves, it is with all of her being as she gives every part of herself, (her body, her trust, her heart), until she can barely breathe. When she hates, it is a pull in her gut, a pressure that rises to her chest creating a time bomb of fury, disgust and abhorrence.

So seeing Mick Rory in his cell, looking at Chronos, that pressure began to build. She tried to see him as her teammate, as Snart’s partner, but every fibre of her being was yelling at her; ‘ _he killed Aldus! He murdered your son!’_ It wasn’t a fact she could easily shake off.

There was a part of her that acknowledged his anger, his desire for vengeance. Having been stranded herself, she understood the disorientation of being left behind.

But he killed her son.

“I used to believe in second chances.” Kendra began, her arms crossed and her eyes stern. “After two hundred lives, how could I not? I remember forgiving a boy who’d killed his parents whilst they slept. I gave a girl a job though she was a known kleptomaniac.” She met Mick’s eyes and saw nothing. “I don’t understand how you have no remorse.”

Mick stared at her and she grew a little unnerved. “Do you want me to start crying, Wings? Want me to a little weepy so we can all hug and be cosy friends again?” He smirked at her glare. “We were never a team. There’s nothing to go back to.”

Shaking her head emphatically and stepping closer to the cell, she grimaced and replied. “See, I don’t want to go back. Not with you. I forgave those people because they deserved to be forgiven. I’m not sure that there’s any part of you that’s worth saving.” Memories of Aldus flashed through her mind; his tight hugs that warmed her on cold nights, quiet days he’d sit in Carter’s – Joe’s - lap as he read to their son, the way he was ticklish on virtually every part of his body.

Kendra took a sadistic, personal satisfaction at the way he tensed at her words. “Why not just kill me? I can see you that you want to.”

“I’m not like you.” She ignored the part of her that felt wrong saying the words. She knew it was a lie. Sara may have helped her to be in command of that wild side to her, the instinctual, feral need to completely destroy what threatened her and those she loved, but she knew what she was capable of now. She knew that it might not take too much to release it again and she worried that she may not be strong enough to stop it. “I’m no monster.”

“Sure thing. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

That, she found offensive. Kendra could feel herself getting worked up. Logically, she knew this was likely what Mick wanted, yet she couldn’t control her fury at his throwaway words. “You killed my son!” She exploded, believing she was well within her rights. “You murdered people - tried to murder people – who have families. They had those who loved them and you took them away with no regard or regret.” Tears sprung to her eyes as she thought of Aldus, lying next to her and Carter and dying slowly, likely afraid and – no. She had to stop thinking about him like that. It would break her.

“Funny thing about murder, Wings,” something seemed to change in Mick as he got closer to her. Soon, they were barely three feet apart and angry as hell. “It’s so easy when you’re a dead man.” His fist shot out, thumping against the cell wall violently. “Did you spare a thought like that for me? Did you all stand together as if some fucking scouts troop or football team to talk about how nobody would miss me? Or was it all just an unspoken assumption since Lenny offered to be the one to ‘ice’ me?” He grinned at his own joke and watched the dawning horror on his companion’s face.

Kendra gaped at him, unable to form an appropriate response. “No, it was necessary. You – you betrayed us.”

“Yeah?” He laughed at her repulsion which was rapidly devolving into confusion. Neither had anything left to say to the other, but Kendra made no move to leave. In fact, she hardly moved at all. She simply gazed at him with sympathy and guilt, realisation dawning upon her since he had torn through her anger. She watched him carefully, as if seeing Mick in a different light. He shifted slightly, getting more uncomfortable by the second.

“Look, Wings…” He turned away, not willing to match her eyes any longer. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry about your kid. Not that it means much since I was trying to kill you and all, but his death _was_ an accident.” It was grumbled out, almost inaudible and Kendra was lucky she’d heard it.

To Kendra, this mattered. Mick’s unexpected apology caught her off guard and she couldn’t hold back her grief. The tears that rolled down her cheeks were not hurried, but slow and she gasped for breath, stepping back into the wall for support. Her sobbing did not last too long; as she finally inhaled a lungful of air, she wiped her face on her sleeve and composed herself. As she made to leave the room, she stopped at the doorway to look at the arsonist. “Mick,” She started, more gently than either of them had been to each other, “I may not be able to forgive you, nor will I ever forget, but … maybe I could learn to work with you again.”

She left too soon to see the small, genuine smile that graced Mick’s face.


End file.
